#touya

[timelines-and-possibilities]

Esnupi has had enough from the government too

For @pyrose

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

[rueclfer]

it's not what it seems! // smau part two

when your roommate has a guest over

part one

katsuki bakugou, touya todoroki, tomura shigaraki

[d1s1ntegrated]

lovesick

dabi x reader nsfw — 600wc drabble

dabi's got a smart mouth, but he's dumb as rocks when he's nestled inside of you. completely lovesick, his cock is twitching and leaking as he fucks into you slowly, trying to savor every time you clench around him. you know that the shit he says when he's balls-deep is spur of the moment, drunken nonsense.

"so fucking good to me, so good," he babbles, eyes heavy and glossed over. his arms are under you, holding you up like you're weightless, hands burning against your hips. "you take me so well, you'd think you were made for me". his teeth nip against your throat, his head buried into your hair, huffing with every drag. "you're mine, yeah? you're mine?"

you nod, but it's not enough for him. he grabs your jaw, making sure you make eye contact when he speaks next. "you're never gonna leave me, you're all mine, you can't leave me."

"mm-mm" you shake your head, parting your lips so he can press his thumb to your tongue. another steady roll of his hips has you moaning against his hand.

"that's right," his eyes flutter shut, but re-open, that chilling blue drowning you. "cause i'd die for you, i would fucking kill for you baby, you know?".

you can usually tell the point where dabi's completely fucking lost in it when he starts rambling like this, cause he would never actually admit these things to you in casual conversation. no, when he's not buried to the hilt he actually doesn't like to show really any sort of emotion other than pissed off. maybe with you he's marginally nicer, but he doesn't do "that sappy shit" as he so brazenly calls it. he doesn't coddle you, or call you baby, or pretty, or anything of the sort unless he's 1. about to die or 2. about to cum. either one of those situations feels dire enough for him to actually let you in on the big "secret" that is his brain.

it's not a bad thing necessarily, it was never something you nitpicked about because, like anyone else who knows him for more than a second, you're smart enough to know that dabi is a grenade without a pin. he can show his affection for you in whatever feels comfortable for him— that's what you had agreed on when you started fucking him in the first place.

you feel loved right now, for sure. pierced cock soaking inside of you, his rough thumb pressed against your clit and circling with just enough pressure you can feel it in your toes. his lips are still pressing sloppy kisses to the connecting point of your throat and shoulder, and everything unsaid is loud enough from the way he knows your body. "'m gonna fill you up, ruin you for anyone else so you can never fucking leave—"

it comes as a bit of a shock this time around when he snaps half-way and moans into your ear, "i fucking love you".

not very dabi-like to admit he actually feels more than terrifyingly obsessed in a moment like this, but it's real enough that you're clenched around him like a vise and cumming with his name in your mouth like a stolen thought. you try to chock it up to pussy-drunk, until he spills inside of you and doubles down, repeating it over and over as he comes down from his high.

"i love you, im not joking around with you".

"okay, yeah, i believe you".

"no you don't. you don't, but i love you," he's slipping out of you slowly, and he's sweating and heaving but maybe there is some truth to him.

"i love you," you repeat back to him, and he nods, licking sweat from your temple.

"alright. don't make me say it again."

maybe he's not as dumb as you thought.

[seumyo]

dabi—no, todoroki touya has a visitor from the past.

NOTE. slight(ish) spoilers from the new ep! chap 426 and 427 reference.

Dabi—no, Touya wakes up like taffy.

The world stretches around him in slow, sticky strands, pulling him out of sleep with the same reluctant heaviness that clings to his lungs each time the machines get a little louder. The glass of the room reflects back a warped version of him—pale, patched, hardly alive but not allowed to die. The wires coil around him like thin metal serpents, sunk into ruined skin; the monitors blink in faint greens and sickly yellows, the colors of a life forced to stay.

He hears footsteps sometimes—well, not footsteps, but the sound of his wheelchair as his mother wheels him around. 

His father’s are the easiest to recognize—hesitating, heavy, like each step is a punishment he gives himself. Enji always stands just outside the light, hands useless at his sides, breathing hard like words hurt more than burns. Touya lets him talk, if only because silence feels thicker with him around. But today, the steps are wrong—lighter, quicker, less afraid of the echoing hallways. He tries to lift his head, but the neck brace keeps him still; all he can do is move his eyes.

It’s quiet.

Too quiet.

Which means his father isn’t here yet.

He tries not to think about that.

A shadow moves at the edge of his vision—small, hesitant. Not a doctor. Not a nurse. Not the man who visits every day with guilt folded into his shoulders like a second coat.

He lifts his gaze and sees you.

For a moment, memory fails him. 

You stood in the doorway as if you’re not sure you’re allowed to come closer. You have grown—taller, sharper, older—but your expression is the same one you used to wear when asking if he wanted to share your snacks after school. Your face is still glowing in a way that makes him feel thirteen again—or maybe that’s just because he may have had a crush on you once, when everything hurts but nothing has yet shattered.

“Touya,” you breathe out, as if the name is both a wish and a question. “It’s really you.”

He tries to speak; it comes out as a rasp too thin to be a word. The nurse adjusts something beside you.

“Only a few minutes,” she warns you gently. “Keep him calm. His vitals spike easily.”

You nod quickly, then step closer, fingers twisting around the strap of your bag. You stop just short of touching the glass, eyes trembling as you take him in fully.

“Nene.”

Ah, that nickname he gave you. It’s familiar in a way—like always on the tip of his tongue.

“You recognized me,” you sighed in relief.

He wants to laugh. Or cry. He’s not sure which wins. “Not that burned.”

A startling puff of laughter leaves you, trembling at the edges. Then you pressed your lips together as if trying not to fall apart in front of him. Touya wants to say how stupid you look right now. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t be here long. They said only a few minutes. They said you shouldn’t talk too much.”

He grunts. “Doesn’t stop my old man.”

Your eyes soften, but you don’t comment. Instead, you exhale shakily and look at him like you’d been carrying years of words with nowhere to place them.

“I didn’t get to visit your grave,” you said quietly. “When I heard you died… or they said you died… it didn’t feel real. None of us believed it. Our old classmates—we kept messaging each other, trying to find out if it was true. And I kept thinking, ‘No, that can’t be him. Touya can’t just… disappear like that.’”

Touya blinks slowly down at you. His vision swims. 

“Didn’t think anyone… remembered.”

“Of course we remembered,” you told him, voice cracking now. “You were—gods, Touya, you were always loud. And stubborn. And you drew these really ugly comic strips on the back of your notebooks.” A watery laugh spills out. “You told me once that when you became a hero, I should be your sidekick. And I said no because I wanted to build buildings, not blow them up while fighting.”

Touya feels something burn in his chest—not fire, not anymore, but something just as sharp.

His throat tightens painfully, hot air scraping up like fire. “[Name]...” It’s barely a whisper, raw and small. But your eyes widen anyway, as if he’d shouted.

“I’m here,” you said quickly. “You don’t have to talk. I just… I wanted you to know that even when everything fell apart, even when I saw you on the news as Dabi and the world hated you… I kept thinking about that kid who tied my shoelaces because I didn’t know how. I kept thinking—Touya’s not gone. He’s just lost. Like how I did when they told us they didn’t find your body.”

A tear slips down his cheek before he feels it. His whole body trembles, the monitors beeping higher, warning. The nurse steps forward, but you shake your head and speak softly, urgently.

His eyes sting. Damn it.

You saw.

“Touya, it’s okay. Please, it’s okay. You don’t have to cry.”

He can’t stop. His breath hitches in short, painful bursts. He hasn’t cried in years (does crying just a few days ago from seeing his family all together count for him?)—not well, not fully—but the sight of someone who knew him before burns more than the blue flames ever did.

“I… didn’t…” He stops, chest heaving. “Say… things.”

You leaned closer, both palms gently resting against the glass now. “You don’t have to. I know. I know you didn’t get to say goodbye. I didn’t either.”

He wishes he could extend his hand to match yours, but the most he can do is twitch his fingers against the restraints. You see this, of course. And Touya notes the way your eyes soften in a way that lights something small and fragile in him.

He tries to lift a hand, but the restraints, the tubes, and the sheer weakness hold him down. His fingers twitch against the metal bed.

“Sorry,” he whispers. 

It’s instinct. 

His whole life is an instinctive apology.

“For what?”

“For… becoming this.”

You shake your head. “You’re still Touya. That’s all that matters.”

The nurse at the door signals at you—two minutes left.

You wiped your eyes quickly and leaned just a bit closer to the glass. “I don’t know if I’ll be allowed to visit again. But… if I can, I will. And even if I can’t… I’m glad I got to see you. Really see you.”

Touya swallows painfully. “Yeah… me too.”

Your voice softens into a whisper. “You always mattered. Even back then, you know? And I’m sorry too, if I made you feel like you couldn’t tell me what’s on your mind.”

Something warm, something unbearably gentle, unfurls in his chest. 

It hurts. 

It heals. 

It burns.

Fuck, he wanted to say something—to also scold you for apologizing when you’ve done nothing wrong. But the words are at a loss on his throat.

Touya musters what little strength he has and presses his own hand against the metal restraint and imagines what it’s like to match yours that leaned against the glass. Your hands don’t touch—but Touya wants to think they almost do. And somehow, that almost feels like everything.

“Bye, Touya,” you heaved in a heavy breath.

He forces his eyes to meet yours, every ounce of strength funneled into a single look—desperate, hopeful, clinging. He watches you leave, the white lights reflecting in his damp eyes, and for the first time in a while, the sound of the machines doesn’t feel as lonely and annoying. 

“Come back,” he whispers after you, voice barely a thread.

He hopes you understand.

He hopes you can come back.

He hopes, because he can’t ask.

He doesn’t know if you hear it. But Touya hopes.

He could only hope.

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[4pp135]

you slid the door to your room open slowly, padding through the cold tiles with a burning hot mug of water and pills you had picked up from the local pharmacy near-by while returning from work.

he was sleeping, ofcourse he was. with the AC all the way up to it's highest setting and the curtains shoved closed like he was a century year old vampire allergic to the warmth of the sun.

he hadn't had his breakfast, ignored his lunch, and barely even picked at the dinner you spent so long making entirely clogged nose friendly.

you knew dabi tended to get cranky at times, or all of them for that matter— but right now, he was just being inconsiderate. you had been losing sleep because of the raspy coughs he'd let out after every fifteen seconds each night. and dabi had to stay under his well-contaminated blanket, pretending he was fine and that he could just sneeze it through.

“wake up.” you hushed, setting the mug down on the bed-side table before running your free hand through dabi's scalp before bringing it to his forehead.

he groaned, then coughed, pulling the covers over him tighter.

“this will help you get better.” you persisted, hovering the pills over him as if the weird clinic smell latched onto them would allure him.

dabi didn't know the contents of what was in those pills. but he trusted you enough to not poison him, after he stopped being very much a dick recently atleast.

“no,” dabi's voice is distorted, with his words all over the place, “why are you giving them to me anyways?”

you click your tounge, settling yourself further onto your bed— “baby, this is medicine.”

“why did you take the time do bring them for me? i don't need shit.” he breathes out, adjusting his weight as he pushes himself to the headboard.

“because.. i want you to get better, touya.” that brushes over something within him. not dabi, not baby— or whatever corny name you fish out.

all the times he's gotten sick, which he barely keeps record of, nobody's even thought about knocking on his door for something as small as a salutation.

but now, here you are.

even after all the things he's hurled out, after all the blood that's been smeared across the fingers you're slotting your owns through right now. and that alone makes him sicker than any flu he's caught after his affairs with the outside.

“and i care about you. i want you to get better.” you smile, trying to fill the quite that had just seemingly dawned between the tiny space you both had put amongst yourself.

his fingers reaches out to touch you, to hold you, to kiss your worries away and assure you that he would be alright— but they fall back almost instantly, like he isn't sure if the affection you had so dearly kept out is even meant for somebody like him.

you lean in, and he nudges his face away.

“I can't fucking get you sick., don't be stupid.”

“tell me that when you'll claw at my insides at night to cuddle you then.” you huff.

“it's not even cuddling, just body heat sharing.”

and for now, he'll swallow as many pills as he can take— for the kisses to come quicker. but he probably won't aswell, just for you to care for him like that again.

a/n: phew just barely pulled this out of my ass guys 😭 i really wanna get back into writing.

[fandoomerrising]

so hot its cold

[suksatoru]

SHOTO LOOKS SO MUCH LIKE HIS TOUYA NII ALL GROWN UP!!

[j11nko]

the grabber